Relikseekers: An Adventurous Beginning
by maklelin highbain
Summary: This is the first adventure of the group of treasure-hunters known as the Relikseekers. Based on the continent of Drala-Frea, Korst.


The Relikseekers: An Adventurous Beginning.

A Korst Story by

Robert J. Morrison

23rd Starmont, 6387kt, the Year of Bleak Dreams

Celldonne, Drala-Frea

The young half-elf stood watching with his one remaining eye as the finishing touches were completed on his dream, the Black Spire. The one hundred and thirty foot tower stretched up towards the ceiling of the cavern of Celldonne Prime. Against the soft white domes of the half-elven metropolis the Black Spire looked menacing, a finger of darkness in a city of light. It was as Maklelin Highbain had always envisioned, its beauty took his breath away.

"Finally," he whispered as he approached the shimmering portal that was the Black Spires entrance, "I am home." Light crackled over the surface of the magical doorway as the robed half-elven necromancer stepped through it. Once he had passed through the portal it flashed twice with a strange black light and gradually disappeared, leaving only a seamless black wall in its place.

"Does it meet with your approval?" questioned the grey-skinned Narris Firebrand. The exotic thief had unusual heritage, his mother was a human settler in Celldonne, she had lived in the outer lying tunnels of the city known as the Spider Trails many years ago. In those darker days patrols had not been so regular and raiders often struck out at the virtually defenceless tunnel dwellers. One such group of raiders was a band of young dark elves out for sport and chaos. Alone in her small home, his mother (whose name he has never known) was assaulted by the spiteful elves. Left battered and bloody she would live with a reminder of that painful encounter, Narris.

"I must admit it is….breath taking!" replied Maklelin his lone eye glistening with enthusiasm. "I have dreamt of this day for so long Narris. I feared that is all it would ever be, a dream. But now, it is mine!"

"'Tis a fine tower t'be sure," put in the third and final member of the closely knit trio. Unlike his companions Korvarn's pedigree was pure, as such the human warrior towered over his hybrid colleagues. He was as different from the pair as night from day. He was broad across the chest and his 6'2 frame was solid with thick muscle. Magnificent ancestral plate mail encased the warrior in a shell of glistening armour. Strapped to his back was a battle axe that weighed at least as much as Narris alone, but the fighter could swing that double bladed weapon with ease in either hand.

"But the question is what now?"

"I have been giving that some thought Narris, serious thought in fact. Let us retire to the study it is more suited to casual conversation." Maklelin led the pair up the spiral staircase at the back of the entrance chamber, leading them to the fourth floor.

"I can't help but notice that something does not seem right about this place," queried the half-drow as he stopped and gave the stairwell a good going over with his keen eyes.

"I am glad my work has not gone unnoticed," smiled the black-clad necromancer. "There are in fact twelve fifteen foot levels to the Black Spire."

"But that can't be! This tower is no more than six score and ten feet in height. By your reckoning this place would have to be a hundred and eighty feet tall and Celldonne Prime is no more than a hundred and fifty feet in height. This thing can't even fit in the city."

"Ah poor Korvarn, when will you begin using your head for something other than carrying your helmet? I sense your touches of sorcery about this place Mak and I mean more than just that unusual front door."

"Indeed you do! I have been working on the enchantments for this place since before we dealt with that Kyrov problem," he replied as he touched the door to his study with the palm of his hand. "Open." He muttered and the door swung silently open. "Sit, sit." He beckoned the pair into the opulently decorated and furnished study. On the walls hung rare tapestries, the floor was adorned in a thick black velvety carpet. Priceless furniture was placed carefully in the chamber to emphasize its depth and space. And a soft white light radiated down from the ceiling filling the dark room with warmth.

"Sometimes your callousness gives me the shivers Mak," Narris chuckled as he slumped down into a soft cushioned chair. Maklelin followed suit and sat in his favourite chair. Narris noticed that the chair seemed to be where ever Maklelin was when he desired to sit, but not once had the thief seen the wizard physically move it. But Korvarn stood looming over the pair, standing with his arm crossed as was his wont.

"I mentioned the late Kyrov for a reason," continued the wizard, "his fortune has finally run out. And it would seem that we need an income. And I am talking about more coin than your little schemes will make us Narris."

"Hey, don't knock the schemes;" replied the thief in a hurt tone of voice, "anyway I don't suppose you have any more relatives that we can do away with? The last one seemed to work out nicely. We could always try and find _my_ father next, seeing as yours was worth so much money! And it would be nice to have a go for that black skinned bastard."

"All this talk of patricide is turning my stomach and I don't fancy crawling around in dark, dank tunnels looking for a dark elven rapist," grumbled the human. "Anyway I have seen that look in your eye before Maklelin."

"What look?"

"You know the one. That green eye of yours is virtually flaring! What have you in mind?"

"Ah my stout friend you know me too well. Indeed I have a plan, don't I always?" The necromancer reached over to a nearby table that was cluttered with piles of ancient parchment and scrolls. He sifted carefully through the sheets pulling forth two long scrolls covered in beautiful elven calligraphy and an old tattered map.

"What do you have there then?" asked Narris as he leaned forward to get a better look at the aging parchments. Korvarn stepped closer to the pair his eyes likewise going to the sheets of ancient paper, eagerly awaiting what his learned friend had found.

"Just before I sold the Highcliff Estate," Maklelin began, both of his friends moved closer still eager to hear way this maybe going. "I stumbled across these ancient elven texts; they talk of, in quite some detail, the Temple of Loss. An elven ruin, a place of dark worship to the fallen goddess Salasthal." Narris made a quick subconscious gesture to placate the elven goddess of evil to fend off her possible unholy wrath.

"Stop that superstitious nonsense Narris," snapped the wizard as his lone eye caught the thief's gesture.

"Sorry," apologised the rogue, "habit. Please, continue."

"Well as far as I can deduce from this scribbling, almost ranting really, is that it was once located somewhere in the region of Algoi Swamps."

"Damn it all!" Korvarn muttered to himself, but both of the half-elves caught the lightly whispered words.

"Is there a problem?" Maklelin asked the question as he reclined back into his chair.

"Not really, it's just that I hate bloody swamps," grumbled the fighter.

"I don't think anyone really likes swamp Korvarn, well other than trolls, bullywugs, and black dragons" Narris replied as he pulled his small clay pipe out from one of the many pouches he had strapped on a belt around his waist.

"That's why I hate swamps! God damned trolls!"

"Anyway as I was saying if you will allow me to continue? The second parchment talks of a hoard of gold and jewels given as donations by the local congregation to the Temple of Loss. Including it would appear a rare and powerful artefact called the Dralo-Orb."

"I've stolen from some powerful people in my time Mak, but I ain't ever stolen from a evil goddess before. Are you sure this is wise?"

"By the gods," put in the human, "I never would have thought I'd hear Narris say he doesn't want to steal something."

"I will write it down in my journal, it maybe the rarest occurrence I ever witnessed," agreed the necromancer a wide smile spread across his gaunt but handsome features.

"Very funny! I'm not saying I don't want to steal it; all I'm saying is that have you thought out all the repercussions? Angry goddess, all that curses and wrath stuff."

"She is the elven goddess of evil and deception Narris, I am sure she will smile down on us even as we slip away with her gifts." Maklelin had foreseen this conversation; Narris had always been a superstitious one. So the wizard had played this scene over and over in his head alert to any possible thought the wily Narris may think up. "You do not seem to fear the wrath of the gods so much when you are stealing from the collection plate in Brother Delman's tiresome sermons."

"What is there to fear when you are stealing from Kelladorn, he is called the Forgiving One?"

"Well then maybe this little act of darkness I propose will cause the Lady of Lies to grant you her gratitude, maybe rebalancing the divine interest that has been taken in your swift hands."

"Bah! Enough of this! You two will sit here and fence with words for the rest of the day! I say I agree to this quest, even though it does possibly involve trolls. And if Maklelin and I are both going who will you have to watch your treacherous back while were away? I say we'd get two days out and you'll come scuttling into our camp with some one stalking after you for one reason or another."

"Our big friend has a valid point Narris."

"Alright, alright, I'll come. But this hoard of Hers' had better be big."

"Oh it is big my greedy friend, very big."

29th Starmont

Celldonne Market

"I don't see why we have to buy all the supplies? It was his idea to go on this little adventure. Where is he anyway?"

"Calm yourself Narris," Korvarn knew all of the thief's words were empty bluster, "I know how much you like all that haggling nonsense. Personally I find all that deal making bothersome."

"_Haggling nonsense_! That nonsense is a fine art you under-educated pile of flesh. One I have been studying all my life." Narris threw him a look full of rage, but within seconds it had been replaced by his customary crooked smile, Korvarn had always had trouble deciphering the rogue's exaggerated moods.

"I just wish you were quicker at it! Those horses took you the best part of two hours to buy. At this rate the taverns will be closed before we've finished."

"You will thank me tomorrow when you put away twice as many flagons of ale with the savings I have made today," replied Narris.

"Well that's true enough; I was just hoping we could have a mug or two before tomorrow. What's left on that list of Maklelin's then?"

"Well thankfully Mak is getting his own spell components old Qorbach is tight as a duck's arse when it comes to his prices. No, let me see. No we got that," Narris ran his finger down the list. "Looks like its just tanners left to go to, says here waterproof boots, breeches and the likes. Come my lumbering companion the first part of our quest is all but complete."

The two mismatched friends wound their way through Celldonne's crowded streets. Korvarn, who was not a native to the city, kept finding his gaze returning to the vast illusory sky that hung above Celldonne, it even mimicked the bright celestial body of the sun far above to perfection. It was said to be one of the Great Wonders of the World and none who had ever seen it would forget the startling sight. Created hundreds of years ago by the City Founders themselves it sheds the much needed light into the subterranean Celldonne.

"If you keep staring at that dome then you're going to mark us to all the cut purses on this street as tourists and therefore fair prey." complained Narris who was, as ever, scanning the crowd around him, his right hand resting comfortably on the hilt of the short sword that was his namesake, the Firebrand. For the best part of an hour they navigated the busy streets before they reached a throng of people gathered around a lone speaker. The orator was obscured by the wall of bodies between him and the shopping duo.

"What's all this about then?" queried Korvarn as he began to shove his way through the crowd towards the speaker. Narris slipped through the gathering, no one even noticed as the nimble thief slipped passed them and with a deft tug relieved them of their coin purses.

"…and then once we let this evil spread, like a rot in our fair city, our secrecy will no longer be assured! Woe to us then, brothers and sisters, woe to us all!" The voice spoke in a practiced tone; his words seemed to pull the crowd towards him with their heart-felt passion. "And it begins even as the day slips away! Look to yonder tower, its mere presence offends those of an honest soul! What dark deeds are undertaken in such a wicked place even now as I speak to you?"

"Kkrassk take you Delman!" spat Narris quietly as he recognized the steady voice of the up-and-coming priest of Kelladorn. The thief scanned the crowd for Korvarn; he caught a glimpse of him pushing his way back through the throng, away from the still ranting cleric, shaking his head in irritation. Once more Narris slipped through the people, he seemed as insubstantial as a shadow. Soon he broke free of the pack to reunite with his warrior companion.

"That's all we need," grumbled the human, "when we get back we'll have a mob of commoners laying siege to our home."

"I must admit he could not have chosen a better time for this sort of twisted propaganda! Be damned with the tanners for now. I think it best that Mak hears of this sooner rather than later. Come on let's go." With that the pair turned towards the central region of Celldonne Prime and the Black Spire and at an urgent pace they set off home.

"He isn't exaggerating this time Maklelin. It was that Brother Delman again; his speech was obviously well rehearsed and it did seem to agitate the commoners. And we only caught part of it, who knows how long he has been at it." Korvarn stood looming over the pair once more in Maklelin's lush study, but now the room was not so organized. Hundreds of sheets of vellum and parchment lay strewn about the table tops and plenty had made their way down to the soft carpeted floor. "What are you up to here anyway?"

"I am getting prepared to leave our home safe for us when we return."

"So you are still meaning for us to leave? What about Delman?" questioned Narris a look of concern on his dark but handsome face, he rose and walked to the south facing window to take a long look out across the white domes of Celldonne. "I don't know Mak, Delman could be a real problem." The rogue finished talking and took another long look at the city of his birth. Suddenly and without warning the comfortable study was filled with a rank sulphuric stench.

"I believe the answer to your questions are about to arrive," the wizard reached out towards the closed entrance to the study and with a swift hand gesture the door swung open. Standing there waiting to enter was the final member of the group, a short creature no more than three feet in height. Its ghastly appearance repulsed both Narris and Korvarn. The monster looked like some one had pulled red skin tightly over a kobolds skeleton. Wisps of grey smoke perpetually rose from random points across its other-planular form.

"I have returned my master," hissed the insidious fire mephit, "and as instructed I have gathered allies for you."

"Flamekloud my fiendish familiar all went well then?" Maklelin beckoned the creature towards him as he spoke. Flamekloud was a fire mephit, born in the fiery wastes of the Abyss; Maklelin had summoned him with his powerful will many years before. The mephit had quickly answered the summons for he sensed the power of the call; he knew one day this young wizard would have the power to shake the entire world.

"Yes my master. I left our three guests down below in the dungeon."

"Three. I only expected a pair. Go down and keep an eye on them for me my shadow," the necromancer dismissed the wicked creature with a wave of his hand.

As soon as the three were alone once more Korvarn let his feelings be known. "I can't bear the sight and stench of that vile little hell-worm! Only Kkrassk knows why you keep him around."

"I myself am no greater lover of our Abyss-spawned companion, but he does have a few handy talents." Narris replied as he packed the bowl of his pipe with a generous pinch of expensive tobacco. "Light Mak!" The necromancer leaned forward, snapping his fingers as he whispered something archaic. A small candle sized flame flared from his fingertip. Narris quickly lit one of his little wooden tooth picks from the magically summoned flame, which he carefully moved up to his pipe. After a few soft puffs he began to savour the rich smoking weed. "And I think eight eyes watching on the road are better than six."

"Yeah but you know what they say, three is company four's a crowd."

"I think you'll find that is two and three you great human ox."

"Whatever Narris, you know what I mean."

"We all know your opinion on Flamekloud very well Korvarn but the fact of the matter is where I go Flamekloud goes. We are as one, he is of me and I am of him. I could no sooner leave him behind than I could the heart that beats in my chest." With that the big fighter knew that the discussion on the matter was at an end, he puffed a few times in impotent rage and turned to join the rogue at the window.

"Who are these three guests our little friend mentioned Mak? We only have three horses you know?" asked Narris after exhaling a lungful of balafrean tobacco smoke.

"Yeah and it took him three whole hours to buy them too," grumbled Korvarn as he suddenly relived the excruciating boredom that had been their shopping trip.

"It was two hours and I got a damn fine deal too. They threw the saddles and bridals in for nothing, damn fine deal if you ask me." The thief shot back, emphasising the statement with a puff of smoke aimed at the humans face. "Anyway back to the point at hand, what guests? And since when do we have a dungeon?"

"All of this mess you see around me are the tools I needed to carve out our new dungeon. It is beneath the basement."

"Since when do we have a basement?"

"Keep up Narris, Maklelin finished the basement two days ago."

"Nobody told me! And I still do not know who these guests are."

"Calm yourself my friend, you'll burst something. You know Maklelin will tell us what we need to know when we need to know it."

"Damn Mak you have him well trained, doe he shake-a-paw, sit down and roll over too?"

"You know I am not sure I have never tried," replied the wizard with a smile. The half elves laughed in unison causing the burly human to make an obscene hand gesture at them as his only means of defiance. "In answer to your guest question, I have seen fit to get some home security. I made good use of my new summoning chamber. It took a great deal of time but it would seem three ghouls have responded to my arcane summons."

"Ghouls," gasped Narris as his grey face turned slightly lighter as the blood drained from it. "Shit Mak you know how I feel about ghouls! Yuck! It feels wrong to have thrice-damned ghouls roaming around my home."

"Do not get your breeches in a knot; they will not be roaming anywhere. I will command them to remain in the entrance chamber and if by some miracle one of that rabble you were so worried about earlier gets in, well then its goodbye marrow for him, the foul beasts will suck him dry in minutes."

"Well I suppose I can put up with them for now but they are gone as soon as we get back!"

"Agreed," Maklelin was once more shuffling through the vast pile of parchment, finally he pulled forth an old and battered map. "Gather round my fellows let me show you where we are bound."

3rd Alethim

On the surface above Celldonne

"By Kkrassk, I had forgotten how hot it was up here," hissed Narris as he sheltered his sensitive eyes with his open hand. "And I hate sand!"

"There does not to seem to be much that you don't hate," chided the human as he let the suns rays warm his body. "I for one am glad to be out of that hole in the ground."

"Hot," spat Flamekloud from Maklelins horse, where he sat behind the wizard. "This air chills my bones, it is as nothing compared to the great firestorms of the Abyss!"

"Well if the Prime Material is so damned unpleasant why don't you just piss back off to Hell? I for one won't miss you."

"Eloquently put you lumbering oaf. I hope your blood boils in that great iron suit of yours in the slight heat of your summer sun."

"Enough. That means the pair of you. This journey will be long enough without having to listen to your ceaseless bickering," Maklelin said firmly throwing a look at both of the arguing pair, "now if they are quite finished, Narris you are our navigator, where is our heading?"

"The maps I have seen have all shown the Algoi Swamps to be to the North West; by my reckoning we have thirty five leagues or so of travelling until we hit the mountains. And from there another hundred leagues until we reach our goal."

"With all that travelling I will virtually be home," smiled the burly fighter as he loosened the straps on his axe for easy access.

"True enough," relied Narris, "but we don't want to be side tracked by Denthonol do we?"

"No you're right Narris, anyway I have almost as many bad memories of that place as I do good ones but….it will be the closest I have come to the place since my father fell in its defence."

"No good looking for empathy here my human friend, I hated my so called father!" Maklelin pointed out. "Come on, let's get moving. We could do with finding some shade beneath a palm for the time being. We will travel at night as discussed." The three horses, laden down with supplies and treasure hunters moved off at a steady pace across the sandy wastes of the Celden Desert. Within the hour they had located a small oasis surrounded by date palms and long dry grass. Horses hobbled they slept the day away beneath the shady trees, lying in wait for the cooling touch of night. As the moon crept into the sky the adventurers were up and moving, filling extra water skins for themselves and their mounts.

"Shouldn't we have bought camels for a trip like this," questioned Narris as he began to saddle his horse.

"Have you ever ridden a camel?"

"No."

"I did not think so. I for one have and that is an experience I never plan to relive," the wizard said as he swung into the saddle of his own mount. "Ghastly beasts they are, always biting and spitting. No give me a horse any day, with a horse you know you are in control not like with camels."

"Is it just me or is it a bit cold in this desert?" Shivered the drow-kin.

"You really are a pampered city boy," chuckled the far travelled human warrior. "Deserts can get real cold at night."

"Cold one minute then hot the next. Personally I'm damn glad I live in a hole in the ground, you know where you are then, with the weather or the lack of it to be precise." Narris pulled his cloak tighter about him as he mounted his piebald mare. He shivered once more as they set off into the star-lit desert.

13th Alethim

Edge of the Celden Desert

The travel had been much slower than Narris thought it would have been. Slogging through sand tired the horses out quickly and the group found themselves resting as often as travelling. Then there on the horizon was a sight that warmed the rogue's heart. "Land ho!"

"That's on a ship you moron," snapped the perpetually angry Flamekloud from behind the wizard. Travelling in the cold desert nights had given the mephit an extremely bad attitude, he and Korvarn had argued at least twice as often as was usual.

"Well this is like a sea of sand so it works here to. Anyway stop trying to ruin my new found cheer, for the first time in a tenday I will feel solid earth beneath my feet. And every time I take a drag on my pipe I won't get a mouthful of sand. I'm sure I shall be shaking the damned stuff out of my boots for a season."

"Maklelin, Narris, over here," called Korvarn from his position on point for the group, two hundred yards forward of the others.

"Foolish human, his voice will carry all the way to the mountains," snarled Flamekloud puffing out smoke from his long hook-nose. "If there be enemies abroad they shall now know our position!"

"If you are that concerned my familiar then you are free to scout the area for lurking danger," Maklelin looked pointedly at the distant mountains and the desert remaining before them.

"Bah," griped the cowardly mephit as he fell silent, his spindly arms crossed in protest. The two half elves shared a chuckle at Flamekloud's expense before moving up to join Korvarn who had dismounted and was kneeling down on one knee studying the ground.

"What have you found there?" asked Narris as he swung down from his own horse to join the human on the ground. The half drow who was one of the most alert people Maklelin have ever encountered stared at the sand, a look of confusion on his face.

"Tracks!"

"What tracks? Where?"

"Right here," the human pointed down at a slight depression in the sand.

"That could be anything?" protested the thief.

"Nay, it can't be just anything. The wind is blowing towards us and here," he pointed to another spot on the ground, "this sand is piled falling towards the wind not away. Something else moved this sand and by my guess it was something big."

"You what? How can you tell its damned size?"

"I am a tracker Narris, my skills may not fare too well in a city but out here I could track a falcon on a stormy day!" The claim was made without a hint of arrogance, from the look on the human's face Narris saw no doubt there.

"How big do you think?" Maklelin asked, still atop his mottled grey and black stallion that he had named Necresys.

"Very big. This ain't an ogre track its much bigger, it has to be a giant! And I ain't ever heard of a giant that travelled alone."

"Well we had better get moving then," back on his horse Narris moved off towards the looming mountains. After a few minutes of travelling the thief turned his saddle to face Maklelin "What are giants like at hunting people?"

"For the most part they are poor at it. They usually rely upon reusable supplies of steady food, like a town or collection of farmsteads. We should be fine, but keep those keen ears of yours open I do not want any surprises."

Three hours later the small group found sanctuary from danger within a small cave on the face of the first mountain they reached. "Well there ends our night time journeys. Now on the uneven slopes of the Trau-Lan we will need the suns light to pick our path, I do not want any of the horses to stumble in the darkness."

"That's alright with me Maklelin," Korvarn agreed readily being the only member of the companions who lacked the racial ability to see in both the normal spectrum of light and the heat sensing infra-vision of the demi-human races.

"I have placed some magical protection across the cave mouth, so do not try and wander in and out," Maklelin informed them as he pulled his saddle from Necresys. "And Korvarn you have had the most experience with horses, before we set off again I want you to give them a good checking over. I really do not want to have a mount go lame in the middle of the wild Trau-Lan Mountains."

"Sure thing Maklelin," replied the human his mood lightened by the thought of travelling beneath the sun rather than the bleak night sky. "It feels great to be on the road once more, how do you like the experience so far Narris?"

"I must admit I am not as taken with it as I thought I would be. I miss the comforts of home, baths, ale, women and plenty of unsuspecting rubes just waiting to lose their purses. All this isn't nearly as exciting as I imagined."

"You want excitement, just wait until we catch up with those giants, I've seen their tracks heading in the same direction as us, sooner or later we're gonna cross paths and when we do…." The human slammed his hands together with a load clap. "Now that's excitement."

"If you ask me fighting giants ain't exciting, it's stupid!"

"Cowardly rogue, unless they have their backs to you, you do not want to fight anyone!" Stated the wizard as he sat down on his saddle and rested his back up against the cave wall.

"Hey, my fighting style works doesn't it? You can't argue with that." The half drow looked smug as he found a comfortable seat on a rounded stone at the back of the cave and settled himself in for some rest.

"And of course you should not forget the loot the giants are probably walking around with," the mage continued. "Suspicious creatures giants, they carry all their wealth upon their persons for fear of their unscrupulous kin-folk relieving them of it while their back is turned."

Narris sighed, travelling was more tiring than the thief had expected. In all this entire trip had come as a big let down so far to the scheming rogue; he lived and breathed intrigue and deception, and trudging through forty leagues of sand was more tedious than he could have imagined. Only the thought of all the treasure they might recover lightened the thief's mood of a slump.

"We had better get some rest, if Korvarn is that sure we are going to cross paths with those giants we shall need to be at our most ready. So stop whinging Narris and keep it down. Flamekloud, watch the entrance while we sleep." With that the young necromancer closed his eyes fell readily into sleep.

"Just as I told you," said Korvarn the next day as the quartet watched a trio of hill giants from behind a huge natural pile of boulders. He looked to the others in anticipation of some congratulations, he received none.

"I knew they would be big," muttered the thief, "but I didn't know they would be _that_ big." The monstrous creatures were at least a dozen feet tall; their bodies were massive, almost deformed, with muscle and flab. Their faces looked remarkably similar to that of a family known in Celldonne for their unfashionable taste for inbreeding.

"They ain't called giants for nothing Narris, anyway these great brutes are the smallest of true giants," put in the human, thrilled in the fact that his knowledge of the world outside Celldonne exceeded that of the thief's.

"How the hell do you go about fighting a thing like that?" Narris looked down at his beloved Firebrand, the blade stood ready in his hand. "It will be like stabbing them with a needle."

"I have read quite a few manuals and librams which describe combat against such beasts. Dwarves seem to believe that you should fell them like trees, hacking away at their trunk-like legs until they fall. Where as elves appear to be keen on missile fire to the face and neck." Maklelin pointed out as he stood studying the three giants intensely.

"That's wonderful! I'll just go over there and ask them to stand still as I saw through its leg with this bright red butter knife of mine!" Narris had begun to pace a sure sign of his uneasy feelings about the situation.

"Great Narris, that's what we can do," Korvarn grabbed the thief to stop his pacing, "you can pace over that way and slay them with your sarcasm."

"We are wasting time here! Let us develop a plan for dealing with these three and get going." The necromancer's hands began to flick from pocket to pocket preparing and organising his many spell components. "We take one each."

"What about the stinking imp?" Complained the human, "what's he gonna be doing?"

"Staying out of the way is what he will be doing. One flick of one of those huge clubs and he will be squashed like a bug."

"Wouldn't that be a shame," spat Korvarn at the scowling mephit.

"Yes it would be a shame Korvarn. If he dies then I may die also and that is a risk I do not wish to take. At the very least I will lose most of my power for who knows how long. So he stays out of it." The fighter grumbled as he pulled his great axe from its customary place on his broad back. The enchanted weapon's blades glistened with a golden shine in the bright noonday sun. The axe had been passed down father to son in the Truesteel family for generations; they had long ago lost the knowledge of its true beginnings. Korvarn had retrieved it from his father's corpse on the disastrous day of his passing. As soon as Korvarn had hefted it for the first time it had felt right in his hand. "But before either of you does anything let me soften them up at bit." A steely focus washed over the necromancer's eye that they all recognised it was the look that was there whenever he was in the process of spellcasting. Mumbling and chanting in a long dead language, Maklelin began to gesture sharply and once again his hands snapped from pocket to pocket. He rolled a ball of what looked like wax with a pinch of what appeared to be bat guano between his palms. With a climatic phrase the wizard threw forth his hands unleashing a great hissing ball of fire towards the unsuspecting giants. The fireball roared and with an ear splitting crash it exploded amongst the monsters. The deadly missile slammed into the giants with amazing force, throwing them all to the rocky ground.

"Damn you're getting good Mak," whistled the thief as he watched the three monsters reeling from the assault.

"Shut up and come on," yelled Korvarn as he let out a bellow of rage and charged at the giants. He reached out as he rushed passed and grabbed the thief's leather armour dragging him along in his wake. Maklelin caught his breath and within moments began the ranting language of wizardry once more.

The stunned and not too clever giants were still not sure what had hit them when the armoured human hacked into the largest of the three monsters with his gleaming axe. The injured behemoth let out a yelp of pain as the enchanted weapon sliced through his flesh and cracked against the bone of his lower left leg. His mind too flustered to recall where his club had gone the lead giant lashed out at the attacking warrior with his bare hands, still deadly weapons in their own right with the colossal muscle of the hill giant behind them. His two companions were still patting out the flames from their animal hide loincloths, far too busy to join him in his fight.

The thief chose the smallest of the three for his opponent, quick as a snake the thief lashed out with brilliant accuracy at the smoking monsters Achilles tendon. The cord snapped with an audible twang and the giant howled in agony and collapsed to the ground, clutching its wounded ankle.

"See my doubting companion it isn't as difficult as you imagined," put in Korvarn between swings of his great axe. A spectacular spear of lightning sliced through the air catching the final unentangled giant. The side of its grotesque head exploded in a shower of sparks and brain, peppering the two adventurers with the monsters grey matter.

"I'm glad his in on our side," muttered Narris throwing a quick glance at Maklelin as he stalked in on his foe once more, the Firebrand glowing with a deep red inner light. Like the truly professional assassin he was, he circled his fallen prey awaiting the perfect moment to strike next. That moment arrived soon after, the giant rolling in pain and fear clutched at its wounded left ankle, his assailant was the furthest thing from his simple mind as the agony washed up his leg in sharp waves. Narris sliced in again, this time at the beast's right leg severing the tendon at the back of his knee. With two dextrous flips Narris was far out of the crippled giants range. Removing a cloth from one of his belt pouches he wiped his blade clean before he returned it to a well deserved rest in its ornate scabbard.

The last remaining monster, now in a panic, kicked out at the still hacking Korvarn. The side of giant's foot caught the human knocking his legs out, sending the warrior sprawling to the ground.

"Need any help?" Narris calmly asked from a safe distance away.

"No he's mine!" The human growled as he pulled himself to his feet and narrowly managed to evade another wild kick from the frantic monster. With a great leap he threw himself at the raging behemoth his axe pulled back in readiness behind his shoulder. As he closed in he loosed the great swing severing three of the giant's toes from his left foot. Squealing in agony, the giant became blind with rage, he kicked and punched with wild abandon. Korvarn hurled himself from side to side in an equally frantic attempt to keep himself out of harms way.

"Stop playing and finish him," Maklelin put in as he stood watching the melee. Flamekloud hopped up and down clapping his hands in glee at his master's side likewise watching the combat. The mephit, wizard and thief watched as Korvarn caught his foe with another two ferocious blows. The giant began to slow with fatigue and blood loss but the human warrior had not yet even begun to sweat. Soon the entertainment was over for the trio as Korvarn placed one well aimed blow after another at the monster's groin and legs. In a bloody mess the final hill giant collapsed to the ground. Almost instantly the fighter was on him again and a precision strike at the side of its head finished the monster.

"What about that one?" Korvarn wondered as he looked over at Narris foe that was still writhing on the rock covered earth.

"Leave him," responded Maklelin, "let vultures feast on him." The mage glanced up at the sky to see a group of circling avian scavengers already gathering. He pulled himself up into Necresys saddle. "Korvarn, gather whatever you can from those two, we will count when we get away from here."

"I was kinda hoping Narris could do that, I seem to be having a bit of trouble with my breastplate," the human hissed as he unfastened the armour a huge dent marring its usual perfection.

"I will help you out with that when we stop for the day; let us not waste anymore time on these things the Temple of Loss does not get any closer if we stand still. Narris do like Korvarn asks, gather the loot, quickly."

Soon they had set off once more travel went smoothly for the rest of the day and at sunset they set camp under a rocky overhang at the base of a great mountain. The horses secured Maklelin made his way over to Korvarn. Rubbing his side the fighter grimaced as his hands gently ran over the wounded area.

"That might be bad," the necromancer remarked, "you best get all that mail off and I will check them out." The young wizard had great physiological knowledge from his studies into the art of necromancy and as well as knowing how to kill things he had also learned how to heal. After a brief examination Maklelin informed his patient of his injuries. "At least three are broken and another two ribs fractured. There is not a lot I can do for you other than strap you up and give you a potion for the pain."

"Damn, it hurts to take deep breaths! And riding hurt like a bitch," grumbled the fighter as Maklelin finished attending to the bandaging.

"Maybe next time you will try avoiding a giant's kick," Narris put in helpfully from the other side of the small camp fire, humour sparkled in his deep red eyes. The dancing light from the fire sparkled on the silver streaks in the thief's black hair as it gently floated around his shoulders in the night's softly blowing wind.

"Now about that armour," the necromancer said to the wounded human, "you will need to place it over the fire for a while and I have a few spells up my sleeve that might help as well." For more than an hour the mage and warrior worked on the dented armour with both wizardry and physical labour. Soon the pair had the thing looking almost as good as new, but still Korvarn hammered away at the damage with a wooden mallet from their equipment.

"Thanks for all the help Narris," the human called across the campsite to the drow-kin who was engrossed in the rich pickings they had gathered from their fallen foes.

"There is more than a thousand gold and a shit-pile of copper, so much in fact that I can't even be bothered to count it," Narris said, oblivious to the Korvarn's sarcasm.

"We will leave anything less than silver here, I do not want us to be weighed down too much as we enter the Algoi," Maklelin was spreading his horse blanket out on the rocky ground, preparing for the night ahead.

"That sounds good to me; only paupers spend copper anyway, it would tarnish my street-cred to use it in public," he stopped talking and turned his head to the side, concentration spread across his dark features. "Can you hear that?"

"What? I can't hear anything," Korvarn answered after a few minutes of silence as the quartet tried to make out what Narris' keen hearing had heard.

"No, he is right," Maklelin said in the rogue's defence, a smile crossed the wizards face, and then a chuckle escaped his lips. Narris and Flamekloud soon joined him in the mirth.

"What? What is it?"

"It's our crippled friend from earlier," hissed Flamekloud between laughs.

"Poor bastard," a grim look crossed his face as Korvarn tried in imagine the pain and fear that the giant was still going through.

"Don't lament for a giant my human friend, how many innocent men have found their way into that monster's belly over the years," Maklelin attempted to sooth Korvarn's mood, the human was by the far the most compassionate of the group, in fact he was the only one of the four that showed any empathy for other peoples pain at all. Soon after the quartet made ready for bed, leaving Flamekloud to watch over them as they slept. The others were soon asleep but Korvarn could not drift off every time sleep was about to take him he was sure he could hear the agonised giant's cries all those miles away. So there he lay on the floor watching the stars until finally weariness took him.

20th Alethim

Algoi Swamp

"There it is gentlemen, the Algoi Swamp. Reputedly the largest swamp on Korst," announced the wizard as the group reached the drier outer reaches of the colossal bog.

"How the hell are we meant to find a temple in the middle of that?"

"Easy Korvarn, we use the map," Maklelin replied quickly pulling the rolled parchment out of one of the many pockets on the inside of his black cloak.

"Oh, fair enough, let me have a look," the wizard passed the aged map to the human, his eyes grew round as he took in the scroll. "What the hell are you talking about? This isn't a map of Drala-Frea it's just one big island. Drala-Frea is made up of a couple."

"Right and wrong my ill educated fellow," replied Maklelin as he took the map back from the fighter. "Drala-Frea is indeed a cluster of islands, but it was not always so. I have read in multiples sources of a battle that raged millennia ago above Drala-Frea, but in those days it was but a single landmass. Two of the greatest wyrms of all time did battle for god knows what reason. For days the battle raged as Khestellos the Black and Rarlanfelleris Azuris warred in the skies. At the climax of the battle they unleashed their most powerful of magicks upon each other, the sky turned black at the great release of magical power and the ground was cast asunder. It was a battle known now to the learned as The Parting."

"What happened to the wyrms Mak?"

"No one is entirely sure Narris but it is safe to say that neither dragon has been seen since," he responded without taking his eye from the old map.

"Well it is a nice story Maklelin but I still do not see how that is gonna make that antique map anymore useful. Look there isn't even a swamp marked on the damned thing."

"Of course there is no swamp," Maklelin said, "it was The Parting tearing the ground apart that caused the waters to flood inland and create the swamp. I have already studied this map with Narris and compared it to accurate modern works of some highly regarded cartographers and we are quite sure we have discovered the whereabouts of the temple."

"Well you'd better be sure you've got it right, I don't wanna have to wander around in circles for weeks on end in a damned swamp."

"We have chosen our route with a great deal of thought, we have even managed to discover a route that will allow us to avoid the domain of a black dragon by the name of Geyrhellinas, a rather angry beast by all accounts," Maklelin finished studying the ancient map before carefully replacing it back in its allocated pocket. "I believe we have about two days of travel before us until we reach the point of entry."

"That's how I figure it too," agreed the thief, "I just hope we got our calculations right! I don't fancy bumping into old Geyrhellinas or his minions."

"If by some chance we do, then we head straight for the Temple at all speed. From what I have read of the region around the Temple nothing living dares step foot within it. And that includes the old wyrm and his kin."

"You could've told me that before we left Maklelin," sighed Korvarn, "but I guess there is nothing else for it, let's be off to the hellish looking place." With that the quartet moved off North along the eastern edge of the great swamp. Travel was calm and uninterrupted, giving the human's damaged ribs a chance to heal up, and with the potions Maklelin had been providing him the breaks were healing much quicker than was natural. By the time they did eventually reach the narrow trail that led into the heart of the Algoi the human was feeling considerably better. The howls and screeching of wyverns filled the night air as the treasure hunters set up camp on the bog's border.

"You had better savour the solid ground beneath you it maybe the last we see for a while," the wizard pointed out when they were all preparing their bed rolls for the night. "Narris, where are those water-proof boots and breeches? We shall need them on the morrow."

"Ah," a look of guilt washed over the half-drow's face, "well, actually there is a slight hitch when it comes to the stuff from the tanners."

"And what is that hitch?" Maklelin sat up from the soft grass covered ground where he had laid his bed.

"Well the thing is I may just have forgotten to get them," Narris took his gaze from the wizard's steely eye; "it was all that Delman business. We thought we'd better…"

"_We_ nothing! Don't get me into this," the human put in defensively, "this is your screw up for a change."

"It was just all that street preaching, I was meaning to go back out the next day, but I got called away suddenly when a situation arose."

"And what situation was that?" queried Korvarn.

"Sod off you great ape, you're just stirring"

"Korvarn has a fair question, what was this 'situation'?"

"Alright maybe situation isn't the right word, let's say opportunity."

"Go on," prompted the wizard.

"Her name was Michelle, the finest half-elf you're ever likely to see! Her ebony and azure mane flowed like a waterfall down her back, I had never seen her equal, she was outstanding!"

"When we all get trench rot and start to lose toes you can make us all better by speaking sweet words of poetry about your great love," grumbled the fighter. "How did you fare with her anyway?"

"She blew me out. I had to keep trying but she said she knew who I was and that is always the surest way to scare off any decent women. I really need to become more practiced at disguising myself my reputation precedes me." To the thief's side Maklelin blew out a breath of exasperation before rolling over on to his side and tried to fall asleep, his mind already filling his boots with imaginary swamp water.

The morning arrived much sooner than any of adventurers wished, the early autumn sun burning down on them from an early hour. The region was already humid; sweat glistened on their faces even at this time of the morning. Camp was up and stowed in less than an hour after a brief breakfast of black bread and jerked meat, washed down with cups of steaming tea. Soon the group set off into the gloomy darkness that was the Algoi Swamp. Within the hour the travellers were squelching through stagnant pools of scum filled water, sinking up to their knees in the soft mud. Only Flamekloud who still sat on the back of Necresys managed to avoid the muck, from time to time he would throw insults to the drow-kin on his master's behalf. But Narris was never one to take criticism well, unless it came straight from the mage, his best and most trusted friend. With the speed of a striking serpent he grasped the mephit after one such comment, giving the hell-spawned beast a sharp yank off of the back of the mottled stallion. Flailing the fire mephit landed with a soft thud into the mud, the act receiving a round of applause from the human and an approving smile from the necromancer. For the rest of the morning the mephit sat astride Necresys grumbling to himself about the foolishness of the natives of the Prime Material Plane, but not once did he hurl anymore audible comments at the rogue.

Each night for six days they camped up around the trunks of large trees, the only dry points they had seen in the mosquito infested swamp lands. The blood sucking parasites were kept at bay by an oil that Maklelin had managed to extract from some of the local plant life. The protection may not have smelled particularly nice but it did keep the clouds of insects at a fair distance. Often monstrous cries stopped the group in their tracks as Korvarn and Narris moved ahead and tried to locate the source of the howls. "Probably just bullywugs," was the rogues reply to most of Maklelins questions on the origins of the beastly calls. But for the first six days, travel in the Algoi went well; it was not until the seventh day that thing took a turn for the worse. The soft ground beneath the mare of Narris' tore up suddenly, causing the mount to squeal out in terror and rear up defensively. It was then the fetid stench reached them, it was a vile smell that could not be mistaken, trolls.

"Damn," hissed Narris as he attempted to calm his mount and wheel it out of the way of the troll that towered over him. "Ain't there anything on this trip were going to meet that isn't twice my size?" As he spoke another seven of the monsters tore free of the thicket that had been obscuring their nine foot gangly forms. Out stretched claws and drooling mouths snapped in anticipation of soft, sweet half-elven flesh.

"Fire," cackled Flamekloud from his perch on Necresys, "trolls don't die unless you burn them." All three adventurers took the mephit's words onboard as they prepared for the chaotic combat that was about to ensue.

"Infernos," whispered Narris as he drew the Firebrand, upon command a crimson corona of flame flickered into existence around the blade of the magical weapon. The troll nearest to the thief backed away at the sight of its deadly nemesis, fire. "He's right, they do hate fire!" A few casual swings seemed to be keeping the monsters at arms reach until two of the troll's grotesque allies joined the fray with the rogue. Their hunger and weight of numbers pushed the monsters forward even at the sight of the greatly feared flames.

"Quickly, both of you fall back," commanded the necromancer in a tone of voice that left no room for questions. "I need time to cast, defend me and we will have these slobbering fools aflame in no time."

Korvarn's great axe blade lashed out time and again at the two trolls closest to him. Arms were severed and a head decapitated but still the foul creatures came on, their vicious and filthy claws sliced savage wounds along the fighter's face and neck.

"No you human moron!" snapped the fire mephit as it watched the severed parts going flying into the undergrowth. "You're only creating more of the vile things. Trolls just regenerate any wounds upon their bodies, any wound that is not sealed with flame anyway. Those bits are just going to grow into more of the things by the time we are returning through the region on our way home."

"My axe is the only weapon I have, unless you want me to use my fists," Korvarn replied as he ducked below another troll claw that was aimed at his vulnerable face. An anguished cry erupted from behind the fighter as he turned to see another troll tearing his mount to the ground; the monster's jagged teeth tearing the horse's neck apart in a blood-crazed frenzy.

Flamekloud gave the wizard time to cast his spells by holding off another pair of the wild creatures with small balls of flame that he conjured from his bony claws. The pyrotechnics were more illusory than harmful, but the incendiary attacks caused the trolls to shuffle from side to side to avoid the licking curls of the flame balls.

Ducking about but attempting to keep his body between Maklelin and the trolls, Narris bobbed and weaved like a prize fighter. From time to time the Firebrand would snap out catching the lumbering monsters. These relatively minor wounds, as Flamekloud had predicted, did not seal over as were the wounds upon Korvarn's foes. A smile started to spread across his dark features as his movements became more fluid and his wiry body got into a rhythm. Then the smile was wiped from his face as the third monster he was battling managed to catch him with a freak blow at his leg, the claws sliced through his leather breeches opening a series of deep cuts. He grimaced in pain as he felt the blood begin to flow down his leg. "When you're ready Mak I could use a hand here."

With an arcane crescendo the necromancer finished his first incantation, an arc of deep red flame gushed forth from his outstretched palms, lashing two of the monsters that were intent upon felling the nimble, quick moving drow-kin with his painful weapon of hated fire. The monster's green flesh sizzled with a remarkable stink as Maklelin's magical flame connected with them; they fell back writhing, attempting to extinguish the searing pain in the soft cool mud of the Algoi. But Maklelin did not relent; he focused harder upon the pair as his Burning Hands spell washed over them again, this time silencing their cries forever. The heat from his spell continued to grow along with the necromancer's anger. Soon the temperature was almost unbearable for his Prime Material companions, where as Flamekloud drank in the fearsome heat wave. With a crack of earth shuddering energy the trolls burst leaving nothing but vile smelling husks of incinerated flesh in their place.

The other trolls wavered temporarily at the deaths of their monstrous cohorts and the sweltering heat of Maklelin's casting, but they were soon pressing hard once more. Three devastating blows later, Korvarn's first foe collapsed into the sludge, but the fighter knew the creature would not stay that way for long. "One down," he muttered to himself, with a glance he saw the wounds already beginning to heal over on the fallen abomination. The remaining monster grasped hold of the fighter's shoulder, its long knife like claws stabbing through his mail and into his flesh. Korvarn swore as the monster tore its claws out with a twist that opened the wound yet further. A river of blood gushed down his chest beneath his sparkling mail. "I need some aid here," he called as he glanced in the necromancer's direction.

With a final flourish another spell erupted from the wizard's hands, this time a solid beam of flame that Maklelin aimed at one of Korvarn's foes and then swiftly moved it on to the next troll and finally on to the troll that was still feasting on the human's still twitching horse. The troll's skin caught fire with ease, catching flame as easily as dry parchment; the flickering flames soon engulfed the trio of monsters ending their wicked lives in absolute agony. Korvarn struck the burning trolls for good measure and to relieve some of his righteous fury.

"That's done it," cheered Narris as two remaining monsters broke away from combat and charged with all haste back into the stinking swamp that had spawned them. Once the thrill of battle had subsided, the thief clutched at his nose and mouth. "And I thought they smelled bad to start with." He watched as Maklelin dispatched the troll Korvarn had downed with his deadly axe with yet another blast of magical fire.

"We had best move on," Maklelin said, "even the stench of burnt troll will not keep the scavengers away from the scent of blood on the air, that felled horse will attract all manner of beasts from miles around."

"You'll have no argument from me on that point. And I thought Flamekloud stunk, you ain't got nothing on these things," Korvarn put in as he began to strip his essential equipment from his fallen mount.

"We can make room on our horses for the supplies that you can not carry upon your person," offered the mage as he began to aid the human in the removal of his much needed food and water from the dead horse. Within the hour they were moving steadily West in the hope that any day they would collide with the ruin for which they were searching. The travelling was slower than it had been as Narris' mare and Necresys were weighed down with the fighter's provisions, even Flamekloud had been removed from his riding position. He had to walk with the others and he did so but with a great deal of blood curdling obscenities.

As the sun began to set they pitched camp beneath an ancient, long dead oak. Maklelin spent the first hour in camp cleaning and dressing his friend's wounds. "We shall have to clean these again in the morning; I want to be sure that they have not become infected." Within a few hours the excitement of the day's battle began to flow away and was replaced by an aching fatigue of tired over-used muscles. Flamekloud scampered up the dead oak with the agility of a monkey and there he sat watching over his master all through the night.

2nd Kordthim

Algoi Swamp

"By Kkrassk, it is magnificent," whispered Narris as the foursome stood on a rise overlooking the lost city. Hundreds of ancient buildings rose out of the murky water of the swamp, their once proud white walls still trying to shine after all these centuries of neglect.

"Yes it is awesome; it conjures an image in my mind of times long passed. This place was once called Verracine, it was once home to more than twenty thousand elves. But this was not your average elven city, darkness streamed through here like a river. The worship of Salasthal, the Black Lady was outlawed in most of the elven civilisations. There were many underground shrines dedicated to Salasthal but never were they accepted, except here. Here in Verracine the Black Lady was honoured far more greatly than her brother Ellesstari. The city's central point was the Temple of Loss and dark worshippers of Salasthal came here in their thousands to openly honour their dark mistress."

"What happened to it?" Korvarn had travelled Drala-Frea for most of his twenty four years of life, seeing a great many things both mundane and magical but he had never seen the likes of this fallen city.

"The Parting happened to it," answered Maklelin, "when the ground was torn asunder and the seas rushed to fill this sunken region and the city fell. Some priests of Ellesstari believe that if there had been a temple to their god in Verracine then the city never would have been destroyed. Others claim that it was Ellesstari himself that allowed the waters to destroy the city in jealousy, angered maybe by the lack of prayers he received from the sylvan folk who lived here. Whatever the cause the result was much the same."

"Waves hundreds of feet high swept across this region wiping out all but the strongest of obstacles. The ancient oaks we have been sheltering beneath all these days in the Algoi are remnants of that long lost time, as are these ruins we see before us," the history lesson continued as Maklelin led the other three into what was once Verracine. "Almost everyone that lived within thousands of square miles was wiped out by the great wave. It was more than a decade until the Ellesstari worshipping elves of Drala-Frea finally sent a search party to the lost city. All they found was what we see before us today, the search parties were pleased by what they found, for the city had always been an embarrassment to the elven kingdoms. They returned with the report that Verracine was no more and they saw no reason for the city to ever be mentioned again. The dark secret of this place have long been lost in the millennia since it fell."

"You said almost everyone died, what happened to the survivors?" Narris questioned as he followed behind Maklelin leading horse down towards what was once Verracine.

"From what I have read on this place in my preparation for this sojourn there were no mention of the survivors, but I have constructed my own theory based upon similar situations of elves on Korst and many other places in the vast Prime Material Plane," the necromancer continued as he opened the front of his cloak, allowing him easy access to his spell components. "I am sure that most of the survivors who attempted to continue their dark lives in the city remain. Lost souls, I imagine and lost elven souls have the habit of becoming beyond life and death."

"Now I understand where you came across the information regarding this place, we're walking into a den of undead, am I right?"

"Possibly that may be true Narris, yes very possible indeed," Maklelin said with a gleam in his eye. Narris grumbled to himself, shaking his head in dismay.

"Don't get yourself worked up Narris," the fighter added, "we have Celldonne's greatest expert on all things undead, and who better to be entering a den of ghosts with?"

"Thank you for the vote of confidence Korvarn," the mage replied with a shallow bow, "but if anything this place will be a den of banshees rather than ghosts, though some in my field would argue that banshees themselves are a form of ghost. I myself do not actually…"

"That is all very interesting Mak but I don't think this is the time for a necromantic debate on the ins and outs of spectral physics," the thief cut off Maklelin before the wizard truly got himself into his deeper thoughts on the differing factions of logic that were evident these days in his ghastly profession. "Could you possibly give us a brief and concise list of the very real dangers that we may face in there?"

"Indeed I can, foremost there is the very real danger of coming across a banshee or two, but I have a magical contingency prepared for that eventuality. The next and most real threat to our quest may well be the minions of Geyrhellinas the Vile. The old black is almost considered a greater wyrm by draconic experts, which makes her a very dangerous threat. We had better move cautiously while in there. And lastly there may be all manner of swamp dwelling creatures such as the catoblepas, basilisk or even the odd wyvern."

"What the hell is a cat-o-ble-pas?"

"If you see one Korvarn you will know," Maklelin replied, "but you had hope you see it before it sees you, its gaze means almost certain death." By the time the conversation had finished the treasure hunters had made their way to the outskirts of the once grand elven city. The sun was beginning to sink low on the horizon so the necromancer called a halt to the group. "It would be better for us to wait here for the night, day light will be one of our greatest allies and many swamp beasts shy away from light preferring to wallow in the darkness of night."

"I will have a look around," said Narris as he handed the reins of his mare to Korvarn, drawing Firebrand from its sheath. "You had best wait here; I will find us somewhere we can easily defend to spend the night."

Within the hour Narris returned with news of a safe haven. He led them to a tumble down old cottage; the devastated building's walls no longer had to hold up the ceiling as it had been washed away all those years ago. Constructed of smooth white stone the cottage only had two remaining rooms the others had long since crumbled. The quartet set up in the smaller of the two rooms and it was the only one that had but a single entrance. Upon Maklelin's instructions camp was made but without the warmth and light of an open fire, fearing that its glow would alert natives to their whereabouts. They spent a cold a miserable night on the dank stone floor of the ancient cottage. Soaked through the next morning they gathered their belongings together in the pouring rain. Soon after they made slow progress towards the temple that they reasoned to be in the centre of the lost city.

"Quick," whispered Narris at about noon as he scampered up to the others from his position on point, "we have company." They swiftly lead their remaining two mounts behind an awkwardly leaning wall and fell into total silence. Minutes passed before the danger made itself apparent, only then did a group of well armed monsters come marching into view. Humanoid in shape the creatures were one of the most feared races anywhere on Korst, the drala-kin. Magically created thousands of years ago, these vicious monsters had thrived under the rule of their creators the Dragon Overlords. There were many breeds of the twisted creatures, but these were jet black in colour. Their scales glistening in the steadily falling rain, standing more than seven feet in height and wrapped in a thick layer of muscle the kin were truly deadly foes. Like their cousins dragons, the kin could unleash a varied array of breath weapons; the black kin could spray a cloud of powerful acid at its enemies without fear of the vitriolic liquid harming themselves. And as well as their breath weapons they all possessed jagged maws and razor sharp talons. All of the breeds of kin were also blessed with a powerful set of bat-like wings and three of the six monsters in this group were making use of them to scour the ground around them from the air. Cackling in a harsh guttural language the largest of the group commanded his fellows, often brandishing his huge double handed sword to emphasize his orders.

"As I thought," whispered Maklelin to his three companions, "the largest one at the front keeps threatening the others with 'Geyrhellinas unbridled wrath'. We had best watch ourselves from here on in, it would seem that the old black has laid claim to this place. But on the plus side that does mean the threat from banshees is severely reduced, not even a black would risk her troops by allowing undead spirits to roam her lands."

_I don't know whether to be glad or sad at that revelation_, Narris replied in the nimble hand code known as the Thieve's Cant, a secret and silent language taught to thieves all over Korst. Narris had long ago taught Maklelin the complicated skill and the mage with his fingers trained for intricate spellcasting had soon picked up the language.

"What?" Whispered Korvarn irritation clear on his face, the rogue had tried to teach the art to the human but it was beyond his digital dexterity.

"Nothing," replied Narris, then switching back to the Cant he turned to the mage, _I am going to follow them for a while. You keep going I will catch up with you soon._ With that the rogue drew Firebrand and slipped off as silently as death after the six black drala-kin. The others stayed put for a while to be sure the immediate danger had passed before moving off toward the centre of Verracine. Less than half an hour later the party was reunited with the drow-kin.

"Listen up I have news," he said as he arrived back. "I have maybe good, maybe bad news depending on how you see the situation. It would appear that our scaly friends are now in the city full time but they have set up their base of operations on the Northern side of town."

"Well that sounds good to me."

"I have not quite finished yet," the thief said to Korvarn, "Gorsak, that was the name of the lead kin, spoke of a great fear that the kin had of the centre of the city, to be precise the Temple of Loss."

"Did he say why?"

"Nope, the others seemed well aware of whatever the danger was; it did not need further explanation of whatever it maybe." The rogue responded to the mage just before he quenched his thirst from a water skin off his horse. "I am quite surprised how thirsty I seem to get even though we are perpetually surrounded by all this water, how does that old verse go? 'Water, water everywhere but not a drop to drink'."

"I wish we knew more about this danger," said the human as he passed the reins of the mare back to Narris.

"When we get closer I will send Flamekloud in to give us some more information on the Temple," Maklelin said much to the mephit's displeasure, "but for now we need to remain vigilant to the more immediate situation, keep your minds in the here and now." With that Maklelin began to lead the other towards the heart of the city again.

6th Kordthim

The Temple of Loss

Travel through the labyrinthine ruins was at the slowest pace it had been since the journey had begun. Regular evasion was needed to keep the party's presence a secret from the oft patrolling minions of the old black. Maklelin did not have enough experience with drala-kin to enable him to tell one kin from another so the group found it difficult to tell how many of the monsters there were in the vicinity. So it was with great anticipation and a touch of dread that they stood staring at the ancient temple. It rose majestically into the sky, a black spear pointed at the heart of the heavens. They were all lost for words, just standing there taking in the smooth curves of the obsidian temple. Three tall towers joined by a deceptively thick wall made up the bulk of the house of worship, all of its surfaces were engraved with elven script. Narris found that the more he tried to study the runes the more his head began to pound with a deep ache.

"You had all better keep your eyes lowered until we get within the temple," the mage advised as he too carefully examined the delicate carvings. "These are words of magic; the untrained mind could be grimly altered by merely looking at the arcane wards."

"It looks flawless, completely intact, it looks like it could have been built recently but with strange sense of awe to it," Korvarn said in a reverent tone of voice. "Are you sure we should be stealing from such a place?"

"I for one am not leaving this place with empty pockets, no matter how nice the décor," Narris added, "all those wards are there to protect it and no one protects something that well unless there is something of worth within."

"But why isn't it damaged like the rest of this fallen place?"

"The gods work in mysterious ways Korvarn," Maklelin answered, "but magic enshrouds this place, I would say its defences were even impressive enough to protect it from the great disaster. And before you ask I do not believe that there are any priests remaining in the place, now it is just a grand tombstone for this once great city."

"Well let's get this over with," Narris said nervously, "the sooner we get in there the sooner we can get out."

"Flamekloud," Maklelin beckoned the fire mephit to his side, "it is time for you to shine, obscure yourself and get in there I wish to know what danger lurks within. I trust you will be clever enough not to lash out at anything you may come across, just scout around then return to me swiftly." The mephit began to shimmer like a heat caused mirage and hopped off hidden under his innate magic towards the dark gloom filled entrance to the Temple of Loss. The minutes seemed like hours as the trio waited for the familiar to return with news of the interior of the temple. Before long though Korvarn and Narris saw Maklelin visibly relax his posture and they both knew what that meant. Seconds later the heat cloaked mephit scampered out of the shadow filled doorway.

"Basilisks my master," hissed the monster as he hopped towards the group, "a whole nest of the vulgar things. I number them at least three maybe four, but they are not in a friendly frame of mind even for basilisks. I am quite sure that there is a clutch of eggs in their somewhere, which would explain their unpleasant attitudes."

"As ever you have done well Flamekloud," Maklelin cooed as he ran his hand over the mephit's bald pate, the stroking caused the familiar to growl softly in appreciation. "Now all we have to do is get past them. But I am not willing to leave them wandering around in there with us, especially if they are protecting a clutch."

"I agree," said the fighter as he nervously handled the hilt of his ancestral weapon.

"I also concur," Narris agreed as a thin smile began to spread across his dark but handsome features, "and I have a feeling that basilisk eggs would sell well back home."

"There are great dangers about fighting these powerful reptiles," the wizard stated calmly, "their gaze will petrify you and I mean that literally. The magical stare will turn your flesh to stone in a blink of your eye. As well as that they are each equipped with six sets of powerful legs and a bite rivalling that of a full grown crocodile and much the same in general size."

"Well I for one has absolutely no idea was a crocodile is so I say let's get in there are kill the damned lizards," Korvarn said as he slapped his palm against the flat of his blade to emphasize his words.

"Do you two remember the blind-fighting techniques I showed you?" Narris asked as he pulled three blindfolds from his haversack.

"Aye," Korvarn sighed, "but I can't say I am happy about fighting without my eyes."

"I likewise remember the training well and I must say that I have been practicing in my spare time," Maklelin boasted as he removed his trusty staff from it customary position, strapped to his back. With a few deft spins and twists the mage slapped Maklelin's Kiss into his left hand, exulting in the confidence he gained when he held the enchanted weapon in his hands. "All you need to remember Korvarn is not to shout and bellow as soon as we encounter the beasts like you usually do."

"I'll try but I ain't giving any promises," the human returned with a smile and a laugh. With that the fighter took a black blindfold from Narris and hung it over his shoulder. "Lead us to them Flamekloud." In perfect silence the group of adventurers crept into the darkness that was the Temple of Loss.

The quartet moved as silently as shadows as they slipped inside the gloom shrouded temple, weapons drawn and ready they stalked in, alert for any sign of danger. Narris flashed his left hand at Maklelin, _Stop. I heard something to the right. I think it is time for the blindfolds._ The wizard nodded in acknowledgement and caught Korvarn's attention and waved his own blindfold at the human. The fighter let out a soft sigh, but to the extremely alert treasure hunters it sounded like a thunder clap. Korvarn grimaced and held his hands up in apology for his heavy breathing before tightly tying his black blindfold across his blue eyes. The other two quickly followed suit but the other-worldly Flamekloud had nothing to fear from the monster's petrifying stare, his extra-planular form gave him a powerful resistance against such attacks. Still he crouched protectively behind the now sightless wizard for the mephit still had healthy fear of the basilisk's deadly maw and claws.

Narris stalked forward with the poise of a panther as he slowly made his way further into the danger filled treasure trove. He moved no less surely than he would have had he still had his eyes to use. Many were the days when the child that was Narris Firebrand had crept around in the total darkness of the Spider Trails of Celldonne. He was supremely confident in his skills of stealth and even now in this dangerous position he still bore his customary smile. Listening for the most minute noises he slipped up to the cross road he senses before him. Tilting his head to the right he listened intently for danger before he clicked his tongue twice against the roof of his mouth, the pre-arranged signal that told the other two to also turn right. Time dragged slowly as they carefully made their way blindly into the dangerous darkness.

When the danger arrived it did so with a blood curdling cry, which caused all four treasure hunters to fall back a step or two. Then near silence fell upon the passageway, only the sound of the basilisk's wheezing breaths and the click of claw on stone remained. The tightly knit group instinctively knew where they should each be in the following battle, like well trained soldiers they fell upon their foe in perfect unison. The sound of blade slicing flesh filled the air accompanied by the thud of Maklelin's Kiss striking true, swiftly followed by the pain filled roar of the now wounded basilisk. The twelve foot long monster thrashed out with its powerful tail, taking Korvarn's legs out from beneath him. The monster was truly enraged, partly due to the wounds it had suffered but also in anger and confusion that its legendary gaze seemed have no effect upon the self blinded invaders. It lurched forward, snapping its dangerous mouth closed, mere millimetres from the face of Maklelin. He smelled its rank breath as he placed his hand upon retreating head and unleashed a quick spell. Electricity cascaded from his fingertips rippling down the creature's muzzle, stunning the basilisk and forcing it back.

Battle was joined moments later as another two of the reptilian beasts scampered up from a staircase at the far end of the passageway. With a howl to their wounded comrade the new duo charged into the four invaders. Teeth snapped together as jaws closed, tails were thrashed and claws raked as the three monsters defended their home with deadly fanaticism. They may have rethought their battle plan if they knew that three of their foes fought with a fanaticism equal to their own, each for reasons of their own. Maklelin Highbain's mind was focused upon the Drala-Orb with the same intensity he had assumed when planning the murder of his own father. Narris Firebrand, his blade now aflame, thought solely of the riches he was sure were beneath them even now. And finally Korvarn Truesteel, he fought with all of his heart to protect those who meant everything to him, the brooding Maklelin and ever joking Narris. Within minutes all six combatants dripped with their own blood and that of their enemy. Breath came in short gasps for all of them and the coppery tang of blood filled the air, but still they all continued with the fierce combat. The first true casualty of the battle slumped to the ground with Korvarn's great axe buried in its thick skull, it whined twice before falling still in front of the warrior as death claimed it.

The two remaining basilisks saw their nest mate fall and pressed on with renewed vigour as frenzy took control of them. But now the monsters were outnumbered, never a good prospect when dealing with well trained foes such as the ones that had now invaded their home. But they fought for not just their own survival but for that of their hidden clutch of precious eggs. The lightning scorched creature turned its attention away from the wily foe he had been intent on and moved on to the towering human that it felt was the greatest threat. It leapt forward and latched its bone crushing jaws around the right leg of Korvarn. The armour clad warrior screamed in agony as the basilisk tried to crush its way through the plates that protected the warrior's leg. The creature accepted a blow to its face, then a second that ruptured its left eye but still it clenched its jaws and twisted its head side to side thrashing as much as it could, hoping to tear the human to the blood soaked ground.

Narris stepped in and out with the grace of a dancer his short sword slicing home time after time, further angering his frantic foe. The creature snapped forward, but its powerful jaws snapped closed on thin air as it had each time before. As the combat continued to play itself out, Narris grew more confident, even in the pitch blackness the thief was flipping and diving away from the deadly basilisk. As his self confidence reached its peak he threw himself over the back of the monster landing with the dexterity born of his drow blood. He landed perfectly on the other side of the surprised creature. Out flashed the flaming Firebrand with accuracy that seemed to defy the fact that the rogue was still blindfolded, it sank up to the cross guard in the surprised basilisk's eye. It shuddered before slumping lifeless to the floor.

Korvarn's axe flew from his grasp as he was thrown violently to the left then right by the thrashing monster that still had a strong grip on his thigh. Agony washed over the human clouding his vision, as he prayed in thanks for his exceptionally well made plate mail. The last thing he heard before all fell silent was the soft chanting of Maklelin Highbain, with a smile Korvarn let the darkness take him.

The other two could not see the human fall but they heard his armoured form crash into the wall to their side. Anger burned in Narris' blood he was about to launch forward when his shoulder was grabbed by the clawed hand of Flamekloud, "Let him cast," whispered the mephit. The thief heard the wizard's strange words heading towards a crescendo even as his keen hearing picked up the sound of the basilisk's claws as they scraped across the ground heading in the direction of the spellcasting mage.

"Mak beware," he called to his endangered friend, but as the words left his mouth they were drowned out by the creature's death cry. The sound raked like claws down his spine, he waited a few moments before slowly removing his black blindfold. There stood the final basilisk its head reared in its final scream, immortalised in stone.

"I thought it fitting that the beast should feel the terror of petrification," Maklelin said as he moved swiftly towards the fallen Korvarn. He knelt at his side and placed his hand upon the fighter's wrist. "His heart still beats, quickly Narris we may not have much time pass me one of the potions you bought for the voyage."

"Way ahead of you Mak," replied the thief as he handed the swirling blue potion to the wizard's eager hands. Maklelin popped open the cork stopper and began to pour the contents down Korvarn's throat, softly massaging the human's neck to encourage swallowing. Within moments the potions magic began its healing work, the blood slowed then stopped dripping from the wounded warrior. The two friends watched as the potion began to knit the flesh of his torn leg back together before their eyes.

"He is very lucky," Maklelin said as he watched the potion complete its magical task.

"I don't know, I don't think getting torn to the ground by an angry basilisk is very lucky, well not in the circles I travel in anyway."

"I was referring to the potion," the mage said as he passed the empty flask back to Narris, "it is an efficient way of healing wounds but it can be extremely painful, the wound resealing can be as painful as receiving it in the first place."

"How long do you reckon until he wakes up? I don't fancy hanging around in these passageways," he took a first good look at the walls, "no matter how well turned out they happen to be."

"It should be just a few minutes," Maklelin confirmed as he sat the unconscious fighter up against the beautiful mosaic covered walls. "Amazing," he whispered as he took in the ancient craftsmanship, "Flamekloud, have a look around, stealthy like, I do not want to bump into any more of these things." The mephit instantly cloaked himself once more and with a nod he disappeared into the inner reaches of the temple.

Within a few minutes Korvarn awoke with a cough, "We won then."

"Was there ever any doubt?"

"No Narris I don't suppose there was. Nice statue Maklelin, I wish we could take it with us it would brighten up that dreary entrance hall of ours." As the drowsy fighter ran his gaze over the petrified monster.

"Dreary?" questioned the wizard, a hurt expression on his gaunt face.

"Well dreary is a bit strong I suppose," mused Korvarn, "the right word is…"

"Bland," interrupted Narris.

"I give you scroungers the finest roof over your heads in the whole of Celldonne and this is how you repay me," the necromancer said in a feigned hurt tone of voice.

"Hey where's the stench-rat?" queried the fighter as he noticed that the mephit was not around.

"Fear not you sweaty lump of flesh Flamekloud hath returned," announced the fire mephit with a deep theatrical bow. "The area seems free of basilisks and my previous recon of the temple has ruled out any other physical dangers. But my blood tingles in this place, it sings to the magic and the chaos of this grand structure. But I have seen no treasure or the Orb because everywhere is so overflowing with magic I can not detect the artefact's exact whereabouts."

"Calm yourself Flamekloud you have done well, now rest yourself as Narris takes up the task," Maklelin reassured the mephit.

"Now it's time for me to shine! If there is a secret door or hidden panel anywhere in this damned place I'll find it, you can be sure of that." Narris began to run his sensitive fingertips along the wall as he began the long and delicate search. Hours passed slowly for the three adventurers who were not seeking the secret door, until the rogue returned some time latter.

"Have you found it yet? I am bored senseless and Maklelin seems to be immersed in his spellbook," Korvarn asked as Narris appeared from the basement, using the same stairs that the basilisks had used earlier in the day.

"Was there ever any doubt? If there is something hidden you can bet your arse I'll find it, just takes a bit of time is all."

"Congratulations then Narris," replied Maklelin dryly from within his precious travelling spellbook, "lead the way." He slammed the book shut with a bang and hopped to his feet. "Have you opened it yet?"

"Hell no!" exclaimed the thief, "there was something I wanted your opinion on first." Narris led them for quite some time through the maze like basement of the Temple of Loss, until finally they arrived at a wall in the south side of the cellar. Narris ran his finger along a thin, almost invisible crack in the stone surface. "What do you make of these?"

"Interesting," mumbled Maklelin as he examined a line of text that had been etched into the rock, the words were lined with what appeared to be diamond dust. "It is best you did not try to open the door my friend. This is an old but powerful trap, an old ward that will flay the skin from any unworthy entrant."

"I thought as much," replied Narris.

"It doesn't look any different from the rest of this scribbling," Korvarn pointed out, "are they all wards then?"

"Yes in a way they are all magical wards, but they are set for different purposes. Most of them are designed to stop any damage being done to the Temple itself, which is why I believe the Temple is still standing even after The Parting," the necromancer said as he ran his fingers along the gentle curves of the beautiful diamond dusted runes, "but this one is different, it was designed to slay anyone that attempted to open the door with out permission."

"Well what can be done about it?"

"Usually there is a ward key that will allow entry," Maklelin answered the fighter, "but unfortunately we do not have it, so I will have to go through the arduous task of dispelling it."

"More waiting?"

"Aye Korvarn, more waiting," replied the mage as he began to pull a grand assortment of mundane components and magical gewgaws from his robe's numerous pockets, "you three had best make yourself comfortable, this may take a while." With that the wizard set to work on the ancient spell-guard.

"Rise and shine," Maklelin said loudly as he clapped his hands together to rouse his comrades. Narris opened one sleepy, shook his head in denial and slumped back into his warm dreams. Korvarn on the other hand never even noticed the mage until the wizard was poking him in the ribs with Maklelin's Kiss. "Get up you lazy good for nothings."

"Five more minutes," grumbled the thief as he rolled over to turn away from the wizard and pulled his blanket up over his face. The fighter staggered to his feet and blinked his bleary eyes a couple of times.

"What's for breakie then?" asked Korvarn as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

"Let me guess," Narris grumbled from under his blanket, "black bread, cheese and jerked beef. Next time we go on one of these little adventures we really should buy a greater assortment of consumables."

"You did the shopping," Maklelin pointed out.

"I know, I know, but I can't think of everything," he threw the blanket off and slowly sat up, "and now look what you have done I am awake and I find it a real challenge to drop off in this threatening dungeon."

"This is no time for sleeping, look," Maklelin out stretched his left arm and gestured to the now open secret doorway.

"Why didn't you say so," Narris quipped as he sprang to his feet, "have you been in yet?"

"No I thought it best to have you three at my side as I enter, or more accurately in your case Narris, in front of me."

"Wonderful, just the way I wanted to start the day, right in the firing line."

"Stop grumbling and get yourself ready, to quote some one not a million leagues away, 'the sooner we get in the sooner we can get out.'" Maklelin imitated the rogue's voice perfectly, picking up every slight nuance in the drow-kin's speech. Within minutes the group was prepared to set off again, weapons in hand they entered the ancient tunnel way. The passage was roughly hewn stone and appeared to have begun carved out with pick and hammer. The secret passageway was magically illuminated by a series of purple lights that cast their soft glow down upon the travellers. None of the Temple's usual beauty was evident in passage it was featureless and bland.

"Stop," hissed Narris from the front of the group.

"What?" Korvarn asked as he stepped up to the rogue's side protectively.

"Trip wire," the thief knelt on one knee and ran his finger gently across the delicate wire, he followed the trap to the wall where he carefully searched for the mechanism. After a few seconds he pulled out his well worn thieve's tools and began his sensitive work. After a score of minutes he made an announcement, "done. What a nasty little bastard this one is. A poisoned quarrel aimed at the unsuspecting victim's groin."

"Why the groin?"

"Well where is the last place any self respecting healer is going to want to suck the poison out of my big friend," Korvarn's face paled at the thought. "Like I said nasty!" Narris got back to his feet and carried on down the rough hewn passage, even more alert than the ever ready thief usually was. It took them more than three hours to make their way along the tunnel until they reached a huge pair of bronze doors, exquisitely carved with a scene of dark elves raiding a village of surface dwelling sylvan elves. The detail on the doors was magnificent; it made the adventurers feel like they were looking down upon the scene from the angle of the gods as it was happening.

"Amazing," whispered Maklelin as he ran his hand across the double doors "is it clean Narris?"

"No traps that I can find."

"Then I place my faith in you, Korvarn open them up if you would."

"My pleasure," the fighter grasped hold of the thick ring that hung on the right door and gave the door a mighty tug. He put all his great muscle behind the pull and heaved with a mighty growl. At first it appeared that the door was not going to budge but Korvarn continued to wrench at the ring with all his considerable strength. Then without warning there was a loud crack and the huge down swung open, the fighter stumbled and toppled over backward. The waft of stale air hit the adventurers as the room was aired for the first time in over five millennia. All four treasure hunters fell silent as their gaze fell upon the glistening contents of the chamber. A huge black altar was situated in the centre of the ovoid room and it was surrounded by sack after sack of gleaming coin and gemstones.

"There must be millions," gasped Korvarn as his mind struggled to take in the wealth that lay before them. "We could never spend all this and how the hell are we even meant to get even a tenth of this back? Its weight would snap the backs of horses if we tried to bundle this lot up." He glanced over at Maklelin, the wizard's lone eye was sparkling intensely as he ran his gaze over the treasure trove. At his side stood Narris and the fighter could well imagine seeing the thief drool over the fortune that was so much larger than any could have anticipated.

"Did I die and no one told me?" questioned Narris as he stared at the fortune, "because this has to be heaven." He then shook away the amazement and launched himself at the nearest sack of coins and jewels, his hands eagerly riffling through the ancient tithe.

"We take nothing but jewels, platinum and anything you believe to be enchanted. If you are not sure bring it to me," Maklelin commanded as he pushed his way through the uncountable treasure, heading straight for the unholy altar. And there perched carefully on top of the blood stained surface was an orb of purest black. Its curved sides seemed to absorb the gentle light that filled the room and Maklelin could feel its power even before he placed his hand upon its glassy surface. "And this, we definitely take this."

For four days the adventurers searched through the mind boggling assortment of riches. Korvarn sifted his way through the coins, platinum were divided from the more common gold, silver, copper and electrum pieces. One large sack and then another and soon after that another was filled to the brim with the ancient coins. All the gems and jewellery they collected was placed separately where Narris could run his experienced eye over them, discarding any that were not worth a princely sum. While Maklelin sat on a bulging sack of coins they had searched through earlier and attempted to identify the varied collection of magicks, from petty potions and rings to wands and weapons of astounding power.

"I hate to leave so much gold behind," Narris said as he took a final glance over his shoulder at the room full of wealth. "It is against everything I stand for."

"The really tricky part is gonna be getting all this stuff back to Celldonne," Korvarn pointed out as he passed a bulging sack full of platinum to the thief, who grunted and sagged under the immense weight of the hundreds of collected coins.

"He has a damn fine point Mak," Narris agreed as he put the heavy bag down with a great sigh of relief, "I couldn't carry one of these to the horses, let alone home."

"You two must think I am a simpleton," groaned the wizard as he dragged another sack of coins towards the entrance to the treasure room. "I have no intention of walking all the way back to Celldonne."

"What then? Denthonol? It is much closer I suppose. But we are going to attract a great deal of attention if we come dragging all of this through the streets of the city," replied Narris attempting to second guess the smiling mage.

"All this time you have both known me and you still seem to find it impossible to think of magical means rather than mundane. We are going to teleport back home," Maklelin calmly stated.

"Teleport? If we could teleport from place to place what was the point of walking here in the first place?" Korvarn looked confused as he questioned the wizard.

"The answer to that is quite simple," Maklelin sighed as he dragged the fourth and final sack of platinum from the treasure vault. "The art of teleportation is a delicate one, the caster must have a firm picture in mind of where he intends to go, a perfect picture that must be exactly right. One stray thought and the caster could materialise on the other side of who knows where magically melded into a tree or rock. And as you can imagine that has the habit of killing the mis-casting mage." He pushed the great door and it closed with a resounding boom.

"I had no idea of what this region of Drala-Frea looked like or even where it was exactly that we were going," Maklelin continued to explain as they slowly made their way back to the surface with their loot. "But the return voyage is a totally different kettle of fish, we want to go back to the Black Spire and there is no place on Korst I know as well as our dark home. I pictured every corner and angle of that place in my mind even years before we had it constructed and now I see no danger in a bit of translocation."

"Why didn't we just leave from the vault?" asked Narris as he stepped out of the front doors of the Temple of Loss, the sun causing his eyes to sting after so many days below in the gloomy cellar.

"We left the horses up here remember," the mage said he took a look up both roads that led to the temple doors making sure the way was clear.

"We have been down there an awful long time," the human said as he dragged his three full sacks towards the fallen horse where they had left the two mount days earlier. "We will be lucky if they are still there."

"Why bother even taking them with us? We could buy ourselves a thousand more with this and still have money to buy ourselves well respected positions in Celldonne's upper circles. Hey! Wait a second if we can teleport back why did we leave all that gold behind?"

"Because my greedy little cut-purse, the Black Spire's defences have yet to be truly tested, where as the Temple of Loss has remained defensively sound for ages. If some other greedy little rogue slips into the Black Spire and makes away with our fortune, we have but to return here to refill our coffers. After we have hunted down the thief and tortured him beyond anything you can possibly imagine."

"That sounds fine Mak," Narris countered, "except that the basilisks that were guarding the place are ever so slightly dead."

"You are forgetting one thing," Maklelin said, "no one was actually scared of the basilisks, they were frightened of the Temple itself. Therefore no one should enter the place for sometime. And all things being well some other denizen of the swamp will make the place its home by the time they do."

"And they still have to find that hidden door," the human put in, "and most people won't have an exceptional thief like you with them."

"Well when you put it like that how can I argue," The rogue said with a bow, "and you did reset that ward didn't you?"

"There was no need to reset it," Maklelin explained, "I just neutralised it for a time, next time that door is reopened..." He let his words trail off as they reached the building where days before they had left their horses. With a few arcane words the defensive shields he had placed around their mounts sizzled and faded away. "As I said the horses are _exactly_ where I left them."

Before them stood the two horses, Necresys and the mare Firebrand had finally named Shadow were as rigid as if frozen. The mage once again fell into the disjointed and harsh language of wizardry, with a bright flash of light the mounts suddenly moved. Not knowing that they had stood frozen in time for the past four days, totally unaware and uninjured.

"Handy," was all the thief had to say on the subject as he began place his loot about the saddle bags on the mare. The wizard made his way over to Necresys, stroked his grey mane once then scratched it fondly beneath its chin; it nickered twice and shoved its equine face against the mage's own cheek in way of greeting.

"Yes my four-legged friend we are leaving this ghastly place. Now stand still as I take us home." Maklelin said as if replying to a question from the horse. His two companions shrugged at the statement but knew the wizard too well to believe that animal communication was beyond his skill. They watched as he drew a circle around the entire group with a bag of white powder from his saddlebag, placing a shining gem on each point of the compass on in its circumference. The necromancer sat down, cross-legged, on the damp stone floor and beckoned the others to do likewise. Flamekloud scampered over to Maklelin's side and beamed in happiness at the spell he knew was soon to arrive; the familiar was the only one of the group other than the wizard that knew that this would be a great test for the young mage. He had never before attempted the magical translocation spell, but even now seconds before he began the verbal components of the casting he felt no fear. Maklelin had never been one to be filled with self doubt; he believed that he had the potential to achieve more, much more in fact.

"I hope you know what doing?" Narris mumbled as he sat down next to the now casting necromancer. A look of pure focused concentration on his face Maklelin Highbain reached into himself and at everywhere else at the same time, grasping at the ripples the spell was creating in space and time. Flamekloud giggled a nervous habit that had frustrated the mage since he had first summoned the evil little creature. But Maklelin put the sounds and voices out of his mind and forced himself yet further into the magicks he was unleashing. Sweat trickled down his face as he pushed himself to the highest level of spellcasting he had ever attempted. Without even thinking about it his arms began to weave and sway through the air leaving visible ripples of light in their wake. All of the sounds of the swamp fell silent, next the giggles of Flamekloud and the comments of the rogue drifted away as if on a breeze as they were all enveloped by the magic.

A brief flash of blackness, thought the thief, then he realised not blackness but a void, a place where nothing and yet everything existed at once. The concept boggled his mind but before his mind could truly get to grips with the situation, the void fell away. It was almost instantly replaced by the comfortable surroundings of Maklelin's study in their home, the Black Spire.

Maklelin let out a gasp and swayed, clutching at the ground to steady his balance. He gave a quick look around, a smile filled his face and the last thing he heard before the darkness rush in was Narris.

"Um Mak you do know that we have the horses with us? And it would appear that the voyage scared them more than it did me, he seems to have left you a present."

EPILOGUE

14th Jaelthim

Black Spire, Celldonne

Maklelin sat in his cluttered laboratory, surrounded by scrolls and other magical paraphernalia, his right hand resting on the Dralo-Orb. The necromancer had spent the past two months since their return from the lost city of Verracine working solely on this artefact he had so yearned for. What had been a human head sized orb of darkness was now the size of a walnut; it had taken an astounding amount of enchantments to reduce the magical ball in size and mass. But Maklelin believed the work to be worth every second he had spent on it.

"Is it ready?" gasped Flamekloud as he crept cautiously into the room. The necromancer had had a great deal of difficulty with this particular item and his temper had frayed many times in recent days and only the mephit had been around to take the brunt of that wrath. But the power hungry mephit always made his way to his master's side; the punishments he had received had been gentle compared to the torturous life he had known in the fiery Abyss.

"Almost, just one final enchantment," Maklelin replied, weariness clear in his voice, the mephit had watched his master work through most of the days and nights since their return. Potions of Vitality kept one fed and rested true but not as well as the real thing, but Maklelin could not bear to stop his work before it was finished. "Soon this empty socket shall have a purpose," he said as he removed his customary black eye patch. The empty void, which had at one time in the long forgotten past held Maklelin's left eye, the eye he had lost due a childhood run in with the often deadly Blood Rot. "Now close the door my familiar, this enchantment can have no interruptions." The mephit hopped over to the door, excited and eager for the moment of spellcasting. He slammed the door closed and turned back towards the wizard.

"No my crimson servant, you have to be on the other side of that door. Did you not hear me say _no_ interruptions?" Flamekloud's skinny shoulders visibly slumped as he pulled open the door only seconds later to slam it closed. As he made his way down the stairs he heard the chanting begin above. He sighed in dismay as he hopped step by step further away from those rare words of magic. But soon a smile returned to his face for he knew that in the future he would see much more wizardry unleashed by his powerful and ever learning master. This was just the beginning he knew, the beginning of something truly legendary.

The End.

44


End file.
